The hall doors opened and closed again as Jiāng Zhǐ vanished from Yúnchuān (Cloud River). Nántáng let out a silent sigh of relief, feeling an unexpected sense of ease.
This feeling was something she hadn't experienced in years, as though she had finally shed a crushing suit of armor.
She had entered Chóngxū Gōng (Chóngxū Palace) at the age of ten, when Jiāng Zhǐ was already past twenty. He had taught her to read Daoist scriptures and practice swordplay, explained immortal techniques, analyzed the Five Elements (Wǔxíng) for her, and led her by the hand across all eighteen peaks of Chóngxū Gōng. In Nántáng's heart, second only to her Master, her eldest senior brother, Jiāng Zhǐ, held the greatest weight.
Although their cultivation partnership originated from a debt of gratitude, no one knew that she, like many young girls in the sect, had once secretly admired this senior brother she looked up to. In which exact year those feelings sprouted, Nántáng couldn't remember clearly. But counting the thirty years since she contracted the Gu, it had probably been sixty or seventy years.
This was originally just a crush born in her youth, needing no fruition—merely her own quiet, innocent joy.
Before contracting the Love-Locking Gu (Suǒqíng Gǔ), she had never once thought of binding herself to Jiāng Zhǐ as a cultivation partner.
Back then, she was still an easygoing, laid-back cultivator.
This laid-back nature wasn't about being utterly detached from the world; she competed too, but only within her own small acre of land. For instance, on the path of cultivation, knowing her talent was limited, she never compared herself to other disciples, especially her five outstanding fellow disciples. After all, talent was talent. Diligence could compensate for clumsiness, but what if those with superior talent were just as diligent?
She had long understood that they weren't at the same starting line.
She disliked making things difficult for herself, so she had no desire to surpass anyone or stand shoulder to shoulder with anyone.
She worked hard too, but didn't compete over winning or losing; she simply hoped to survive one tribulation at a time. Living a few more years wasn't a bad thing at all. The vast world was so grand, with the Six Sects and Three Seas in the Yùkūn Realm, holding so many sights she had never seen—it would be such a pity to perish inside a mere sect.
The same logic applied to Jiāng Zhǐ.
Yes, she secretly admired her Dà Shīxiōng, but it was strictly limited to a secret crush—a self-entertaining liking with no expectation of a long-term future with him. Keeping it tucked away in her heart, watching him from afar was perfectly fine; it didn't get in anyone's way or ruin anyone's romance, and she had never harbored any intentions of confessing her feelings.
They were not people of the same path. Jiāng Zhǐ was a chosen child of heaven, the kind of genius blessed directly by the heavens themselves. Although she couldn't be called mud, she was hardly material that could be plastered onto a wall. Let alone binding themselves as Dao partners—if a hundred years passed, Jiāng Zhǐ would be at the peak of his glory while her lifespan reached its end... Just thinking about that scene was heartbreaking.
So, remaining as senior brother and junior sister was for the best.
No pressure, no burdens.
Nántáng was actually quite lazy and didn't care for striving.
Thinking back, the reason their Master had brought her back to Chóngxū Gōng in the first place was precisely because of her personality. The old man was picky about taking disciples, accepting nothing short of one-in-a-million talent. Yet he happened to run into this little trash-tier disciple, Nántáng, finding her temper quite agreeable—never anxious until the fire singed her eyebrows. On a sudden whim, he brought her back to Chóngxū Gōng, turning her into a little hen in a phoenix nest.
The little hen got gilded in gold, turning into half a phoenix, with four senior brothers above protecting her as their sole junior sister—wasn't life as delightful as an immortal's?
Had she not been infected with the Love-Locking Gu, she would likely still be living a carefree life. Even if a junior sister like Yíngxuě arrived and stole all her thunder, she wouldn't have fared too badly either. How could it have turned out like now...
A cliff-dive drop in reputation.
God only knew—she had originally rescued her fellow disciple out of good intentions, so how did it turn after thirty years into her being a female cultivator who deliberately fed herself to the Gu just to marry Jiāng Zhǐ?
The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit (Líng'ěr Tù) had jumped back onto her lap at some point, lounging comfortably while letting her idly stroke the soft fur on the back of its neck.
Clear chimes sounded outside the hall doors once more as someone requested an audience. Nántáng swept open the doors, and a woman wearing a headscarf, dressed like a farmer, walked inside.
"Fifth Martial Aunt, the Ice Mulberry (Bīngsāng) you requested earlier—I have successfully cultivated it," the newcomer announced boisterously without even offering a formal bow upon entering.
This was Yānhuá, a disciple from Chóngxū Gōng's Spring Awakening Workshop (Chūnxǐng Fāng).
Chóngxū Gōng had over a dozen peaks, large and small, each serving its own dedicated role. The sect harbored no freeloaders; all disciples, whether inner or outer, were required to take up duties within the sect outside of their cultivation. For instance, Nántáng's current duty was teaching outer disciples at the Zuòwàng Cottage (Zuòwàng Lú).
The Spring Awakening Workshop was responsible for overseeing the thousands of acres of land across Chóngxū Gōng—simply put, a workshop specialized in land reclamation and farming. Yānhuá was the favorite disciple of Nánshān Jué, the master of the Spring Awakening Workshop. Possessing dual Water and Earth spiritual roots, her looks and cultivation were average, but she loved nothing more than researching various immortal agricultural crops—such as how to extend the inedia period of immortal rice, how to boost peach yields, or how to reduce pests on spiritual herbs... and so forth.
Nántáng had few friends in Chóngxū Gōng, but Yānhuá was an exception. She was a total nerd who couldn't care less about the convoluted gossip in the sect. As long as someone consulted her on agricultural matters, she would lend a hand regardless of who they were. If something piqued her interest, she would spare no effort whatsoever.
Two months ago, Nántáng had consulted her about adapting Ice Mulberry trees into potted plants.
Ice Mulberry was the food of Ice Silkworms (Bīngcán), but these mulberry trees only grew in the chilly northern regions and survived with great difficulty elsewhere, imposing a geographical limit on raising Ice Silkworms. This year marked Jiāng Zhǐ's hundredth birthday, and Nántáng had long wanted to craft a close-fitting Ice Silkworm soft shirt as a birthday gift for him. Thus, she had asked Yānhuá about planting Ice Mulberry. At the time, they discussed methods for transplanting the tree; although they hadn't devised a foolproof plan, Yānhuá kept it in mind, and after two months, she actually researched a method to grow Ice Mulberry in pots!
"Truth be told, it was Fifth Martial Aunt's inspiration that day! I improved the soil for planting Ice Mulberry, using crushed Mystic Ice (Xuánbīng) paired with Five Elements Earth (Wǔlíng Tǔ) as a substrate, plus the blood of a Blue Flood-Dragon (Lán Jiāo)—and finally formulated a soil suitable for potting Ice Mulberry!" As she explained with great enthusiasm, she pulled two waist-high, transparent Cool Jade (Liángyù) pots out of her storage bag.
Nántáng tossed the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit onto her shoulder, stepped down from the bed, and stared straight at the jade pots. "You actually grew it!"
Inside the pots were two Ice Mulberry seedlings. Their trunks were only two fingers thick, but their foliage was lush and teeming with vitality.
"I cultivated five trees in total, so these two are for Martial Aunt to plant for fun," Yānhuá said with a wide grin on her sun-baked, wheat-colored face. As she spoke, she fished out a small bamboo basket. "Inside are newly hatched baby Ice Silkworms—Martial Aunt can start raising them right now!"
She stuffed the bamboo basket into Nántáng's hands, explaining the planting methods for Ice Mulberry and the feeding instructions for Ice Silkworms down to the finest detail. Then she added warmly, "If Martial Aunt encounters any difficulties in planting or raising them in the future, you can always come find me!"
With Yānhuá being so warm-hearted, Nántáng felt too embarrassed to tell her that she had already abandoned the idea of making an Ice Silkworm soft shirt for Jiāng Zhǐ and no longer needed to plant mulberry trees or raise silk caterpillars. Oh well, she could still make the shirts—two of them: one for herself to wear, and one as a thank-you gift for Yānhuá.
"Thank you so much," Nántáng expressed her gratitude.
Yānhuá waved her hand. "A small matter! I still have urgent business, so I'll take my leave now."
She arrived like a gust of wind and left just as briskly, leaving the two pots of Ice Mulberry behind in the hall.
Nántáng squatted beside the pots to inspect the Ice Mulberry trees—even if not used for feeding silkworms, these two potted trees were exquisite ornaments in their own right.
The soil specially blended by Yānhuá displayed a faint blue tint, resembling a pot brimming with crushed gemstones of various sizes. The Ice Mulberry trees were pale cyan-blue throughout, with distinct veins on their three-pointed leaves, crystalline and uniquely transparent.
Nántáng observed them for a moment before her gaze settled back onto the potted soil.
The odd sensation in her heart surfaced once more. The pot of soil seemed to summon her with an irresistible magic, prompting her to slowly extend her hand.
This time, she placed her right palm flat against the blue soil. Suddenly, a surge of force shot out from the dirt, instantly wrapping around her hand and dragging it down into the soil!
A bone-chilling coldness enveloped her hand. Underneath the soil, several meandering streams of blue light burst forth, drilling into her palm like spider silk before spreading up along her arm.
This time, Nántáng clearly felt all the spiritual energy contained within the soil being sucked into her body.
In just a few brief breaths, the blue light in the pot dimmed and vanished. The soil that had been crystal-clear and radiant blue just a moment ago turned into dull gray-black pebbles, as if drained of all spiritual essence, and the pulling force on her hand ceased completely.
Nántáng yanked her hand out abruptly, staring in utter shock at the soil turned to trash stone. Raising her head, her eyes bumped right into the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit, which had already hopped onto the rim of the pot.
Whether it was her imagination or not, she thought she caught a flicker of astonishment in the rabbit's bead-like eyes.
However, before Nántáng could verify it, the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit leaped into the air, using its front paws to frantically pull at her clothes.
Those strands of blue light had already traveled along Nántáng's arm and rushed into her body.
Nántáng bolted up and rushed to the mirror wall, untying the palace sash around her waist. As her robes parted, beneath was an aqua-green undergarment and matching silk pants. The blue light had already traversed her collarbone and was rushing downward. Paying no heed to modesty, Nántáng snapped the thin neck strap, letting the top drop to the floor.
The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit had been standing right in front of her, craning its head to join the commotion, only to be completely smothered by the falling undergarment. By the time it scrambled out using all four paws and looked up, its bead-like eyes widened in sheer shock.
Nántáng herself was equally stunned.
The mirror wall clearly reflected the upper half of her body.
The blue light converged at her Dāntián (Elixir Field), where a fist-sized, intricate sigil had appeared out of nowhere. As if illuminated by the blue light absorbed earlier, it emitted a pale cyan glow from beneath her skin. Before long, all the blue light poured into the sigil, the pale cyan glow faded away, and finally, the pattern vanished alongside it.
Nántáng stared at the mirror wall, unable to snap out of her daze for a long while.
So it wasn't that there was something in the soil—there was something inside her body!
Without a second thought, Nántáng snatched up her top, tied it casually, smoothed her robes, and hastily grabbed paper and brush. Drawing from memory, she sketched both the intricate pattern on her lower abdomen and the strange beast she had encountered in the ice cave.
The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit sat quietly on the table, staring fixedly at her drawing.
Under normal circumstances, Nántáng would have definitely suspected that this rabbit was far too obedient for its own good, but right now, she had no mind for anything else.
As the final stroke landed, she swept a gust of palm wind to dry the paper instantly, folded it into her sleeve, and hurriedly tossed out a command: "Little guy, stay here and wait for me." With a turn of her body, she flew straight out of Yúnchuān.
She needed to find someone to ask.
Yúnchuān fell into silence. No one saw the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit hop onto the rim of the Ice Mulberry pot in two or three leaps and sit down.
It was not the posture of a beast.
Its sturdy hind legs were crossed, its frail front paws folded across its chest, and its long ears drooped along its sides—looking precisely like a human leaning back against the rim, deep in thought...
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